


Red-Tinted Waves

by Branithar



Series: Short Fics [11]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cruise Ships, M/M, Science Fiction, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branithar/pseuds/Branithar
Summary: The boys have a bad time on a cruise.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Series: Short Fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409368
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Red-Tinted Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Moodboard is by Who_The_Hell_Is_Tre_Cool on AO3 or mastasof-ravenkroft on Tumblr.

Michael chugged from the water bottle Ashton had given him in exchange for a bottle of vodka. His trip to the upstairs lounge had taken longer than he’d expected and he hadn’t been able to get the taps at the bar working.

“Luke’s been gone too long,” Calum commented, eyeing the clock on the wall.

“Maybe he found something interesting.” Ashton didn’t sound convinced by his own theory.

Michael pushed himself off his and Luke’s bed. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

Calum stood too, grabbing his kitchen knife, backpack and box of sliced onion. “I’ll come.”

“Can you check the bridge on the way?” Ashton requested, “For peace of mind?”

“Sure.”

“Hey.” Ashton held his hands out to Calum.

Calum took them and pulled him to his feet for a kiss.

“If you guys don’t come back, I’ll fuck you both up,” Ashton told them.

Michael gave a half hearted smile, taking out a slice of onion each for he and Calum.

Before opening the door, they broke the strips under their noses, inhaling and letting fresh tears spill over. It made it hard to see, but it was the best they had, the only protection they knew worked.

They hadn’t been to the infirmary before, but it was close enough to the kitchens that they didn’t need the maps on their brochures to find it. Hopefully it hadn’t been completely looted yet.

“Dumb cunt probably got lost,” Michael quietly joked as they came to the bridge.

“Probably,” Calum mumbled, peeking in, “All clear.”

The monitors showed that the ship was still on course, its autopilot taking them home, an automatic emergency protocol that kicked in after most of the crew were killed and stopped clocking in for shifts.

“One week,” Michael read from the slightly blood-spattered display he was looking at.

“Even if we run out of food, we’ll make it,” Calum noted, heading back out, “It’ll be good to stop having to leave our room for supplies.”

When they reached the deck below them, Michael sighed. At least two inches of water covered the floor.

“That’s new,” Calum commented quietly.

“It’ll hear us splashing around in this.”

“If it’s close enough to, we’ll hear it too,” Calum pointed out, taking out another slice of onion and breaking it, before bending down to scoop up some water and taste it.

“Salty?”

Calum shook his head.

“Must be why I couldn’t get the taps upstairs working.”

At least they weren’t sinking.

Michael twisted a piece of onion under his nose, breathing deeply and trying not to theorise about what had been keeping Luke. He needed to cry, not fall apart. As he stepped into the water, he frowned and bent down to get a closer look, hoping he was imagining the red tint.

“Michael,” Calum whispered, lightly smacking his shoulder.

Michael looked where he was pointing, his stomach turning. Halfway down the corridor, a mangled body lay on the floor, dark blood mingling with the water and fanning out towards them.

“It’s not Luke,” Calum assured him.

As much as he wanted to have Calum’s optimism, Michael couldn’t help the dread that crept in. The body hadn’t even begun to smell yet.

“It’s fresh. It’s been here.”

“Do you hear that?” Calum asked.

Michael listened. Somewhere ahead of them, something was faintly splashing in the water.

Careful not to let their feet slosh too much, Michael and Calum approached the body. There wasn’t much left aside from bloody bones, but Luke’s pack wasn’t anywhere to be seen and the shreds of clothing floating around it didn’t match what he’d been wearing this morning. Michael chose to take that as a good sign.

More noises became discernible as they got closer to the kitchens. Michael tried not to think too much about how they were clearly the sounds of tearing flesh beyond letting a few more tears spill over. They clung to the wall opposite the open doors to the kitchens, Calum leaning to peer in as they passed. He gave Michael a look and shook his head before moving on.

Michael tried not to give in to the instinct telling him to just run as he reached the doors. The beast had its scaled back to them, its attention on the body it was devouring. Calum was right, it wasn’t Luke. Just a passenger Michael had met at the pool a week ago. James. As he watched, the beast dug its claws under James’ ribs to scoop out more meat, swishing its tail in sick enjoyment and stirring up the bloody water around it.

The infirmary wasn’t far now. The sounds of the beast slowly faded, eventually being replaced by the unmistakeable sound of Luke’s laboured breathing.

Michael didn’t notice how loud and hurried his footsteps had gotten until Calum grabbed his arm hard and glared at him. They stopped and listened, but the corridor was quiet. Even Luke’s breathing had stopped, hopefully because he was listening too.

Calum approached the door to the infirmary. “Luke?”

“Cal?” Luke replied, his voice strained. They heard him grunt as something scraped against the floor. “Door’s open.”

Michael pushed past Calum to get in, barely glancing at the bloody bed at the other end of the room before his eyes found Luke on the floor, panting as he clutched his waist. Through the rips in his black singlet, bloody white material was visible.

Luke gave a tired grin. "Mikey."

“What happened?” Michael asked, falling to his knees beside him and gently pulling his blood-stained hand away to lift the hem of his singlet.

“Met some people in the kitchens,” Luke panted, “They wanted my laser pistol and we got loud. Beastie heard us.” He whined as Michael lifted away the white rag to examine the wounds, two deep, sickening gashes. “It nicked me, but one of the others stabbed it and I ran while it was busy with them.”

“We found a body on the way,” Calum told him, rummaging around for bandages, “And the beast was eating someone else in the kitchen last we saw.” He crouched beside them with a tray of bandages and supplies.

“That’ll be them.”

Luke pressed a hand to his mouth to mask his moans as Michael and Calum dressed his wounds, not doing the best job of sitting still but Michael couldn’t really fault him for that.

“We should get the supplies while we’re here,” Calum suggested when they were done, stuffing the leftover bandages in his pack.

Michael neatened the collar of Luke’s floral button-up. “Think you can walk?” he asked softly.

Luke nodded. Hopefully his pallor was more a result of stress than the pink water they were sitting in. “You should kiss me better, though,” he suggested.

Michael grinned. “Dumbass.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Luke’s.

With a weak hand, Luke pulled Michael closer to sit next to him, resting his head on his shoulder.

As they’d agreed early on, Calum only took what they needed, leaving plenty of supplies in case other survivors needed it. If there _were_ others. Michael gave Luke a piece of onion as Calum slung his pack on, making sure there were plenty of fresh tears on their faces before helping Luke to his feet, his arms around their shoulders. Although he was shaky, they managed to get out the door before freezing where they stood.

The beast stared at them, no more than a few metres away and well within mauling distance. It stepped closer, snuffling at Michael’s face. Crying wasn’t hard now, not when all it had to do to get Michael’s head between its teeth was open its mouth and lean forward. Not when it was examining him with those terrifyingly dead eyes. Not when two of his best friends were right here with him and the beast had proven willing and capable of eating non-stop for hours.

Luke’s head slumped forward, his legs going slack, but Michael didn’t try to shake him into consciousness. If this was it, he’d be lucky to not be aware while it happened. The beast sniffed Calum’s face, huffed disgustedly, and pushed past them to investigate the infirmary. Michael and Calum stumbled back, jostling Luke awake. They didn’t wait for the tip of the beast’s tail to disappear inside before hurrying back towards the kitchens, Michael quietly crying in relief.

One week. They only had to do this for one more week.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: " _If the beast is stalking you, you must cry. It hates the smell of tears._ "
> 
> Before writing this I spent ages trying to find that post about alternative horror settings. I could only remember cruise ships, and I think I made it work with the prompt and original inspiration, but if anyone has that post on hand please comment, I'd like it for future reference.
> 
> I run tran5rightsos on Tumblr! Feel free to send asks about this or any of my other 5sos fics!
> 
> Comments are always welcome.


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